From: an269478@anon.penet.fi (Steve Forbes)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.gay
Subject: Twist of fate - [MM] long lost half brother is gay too!
Date: 10 Feb 1996 23:46:59 GMT
Organization: Pennsylvania Online [Usenet News Server for Hire]
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This story contains scenes of homoerotic love - but you should already know
that since the subject line clearly indicated this story has Male/Male (MM)
contact. That being the case, no one has any reason to complain or act
surprised that this story presents gay men enjoying themselves sexually, so
flames will be ignored! If you are underage or inadvertantly downloaded this
story, please use the DELETE option that is present in all decent newsreaders
and find something more to your liking.
Open-minded indivuals of all sexual orientations are invited to page down and
enjoy this story as much as I have. I did not write it, and wish to thank
the author for providing us with a very erotic story.
Steve
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Fate
"The supper was great, Mom, may I be excused?"
I managed to smile and look polite, but inside I was
steamed, just as I was every time we went through this
charade. I was 18, soon to be 19, and I was still forced to
sit at the table waiting for one of my parents to determine
when I could get up and go on about my business. None of my
friends had been subjected to that routine since we got to
junior high, and some had never faced it. Here I was,
finishing my freshman year in college, and I still ate when
they said eat, minded my manners, and waited for them to
determine when I could leave the table. It was going to be
fucking great next year when I transferred from the local
community college to the university, lived on campus, and
did as I damn well pleased!
"Yes, Jason, if you must, but did you ever stop to
think that it might be nice just to enjoy one another's
company, even when you were through stuffing your face?"
came my dad's acrid reply.
"I don't mean to seem rude, Dad, but I have a major
test in Anatomy tomorrow, and every minute counts. I need
to hit the books," I said as I starting sliding my chair
back from the table, preparing to split.
"Paul, didn't you have something you wanted to talk to
the kids about?" my mother interrupted. For those of you
who didn't grow up in the Conner household, let me
translate: "I told you what to say, now say it!"
"As a matter of fact there is, and I suppose now is as
good a time as any. This isn't easy, so bear with me." Dad
was looking toward, but definitely not at, my two younger
sisters and me. "A couple of years before I ever knew your
mother, while I was in the Navy, I was married to someone
else. It was a mistake from the beginning, a mistake made
in a drunken stupor, and it took us less than three months
to realize what a mistake it was. This was 1969, divorces
were difficult to obtain, and at first she didn't want to
get a divorce, but she finally agreed to divorce me on the
grounds of 'mental cruelty.' A few months later, the judge
slammed his gavel, granted the divorce, and we both walked
out of the courtroom thankful for our regained freedom.
When I met your mother a few years later, I told her about
Alana, but I've never told anyone else -- until now. Not
even your grandparents knew." Dad paused for a breath and
took a long drink of iced tea, the expression on his face
telegraphing the fact that he wished it was something much
stronger.
"So why are you telling us this now?" questioned my
youngest sister, Karen. At fifteen she was already more
rebellious and hard-headed than my seventeen year-old
sister, Patricia, or I had ever been. This was just one
more chance to "mix it with 'em" as she saw it.
"I didn't know it until last week, but when we
divorced, Alana was expecting our child. He's 22 now, just
finished a stint in the Navy, and he wants to take the
electronics technician course at Down's Institute here in
town, then get a job with one of the major repair firms. It
seems Alana was killed in an automobile accident over a year
ago, the driver was uninsured, and what little she had saved
went for the final expenses. According to Tim -- that's
your half brother's name -- his mother was married three
more times, but it always ended in divorce. He wants me to
help him, and all he wants right now is to come here and
live while he goes to school and finds a job. He has a
government grant that will pay for his education, but he
knows he can't afford to go it on his own."
I glanced around the table, noticing the look of shock
on my sisters' faces and then realizing my own face probably
said the same thing. Our dad had always been the proverbial
"straight arrow," preaching to us since we were toddlers
that marriage was forever, and then later, that sex was
something to be shared between one man and one woman who had
made a lifetime commitment to each other. Add to that his
teetotalling self-righteousness, and you could have knocked
any of the three of us over with a feather after hearing him
say that he had, in fact, gotten drunk, wanted a piece of
pussy, married her, realized it was a mistake when he
sobered up, then divorced her. When I recovered from the
initial shock, my first thought was to wonder what Pastor
Martin would think when he heard about all this.
---
"Tim will arrive from Tennessee at the end of the week,
and I must tell you, I don't know what to expect. His
mother was a little on the 'wild side,' and I wouldn't be
surprised if he's a little rough around the edges as well.
Do your best to be polite and make him comfortable. Your
mother and I have already discussed this, and we've been
planning to finish the room above the garage for visitor's
quarter's ever since we converted the guest room to her
study last year. This just gives us a reason to get
started. The contractors should be here day after tomorrow,
Jason, and until then, Tim can share your room."
My mood changed instantly from one of gloating shock to
blind rage. "Why my room? Why can't Patricia and Karen
share a room and Tim take one of theirs?" I stormed out,
deeply concerned with the invasion of my privacy. If I had
a roommate, where would I jack off? And where would I hide
all the goodies I'd collected in the last year or so? Sure,
I could beat my meat in the shower, but my copies of COLT
and MANHANDLERS and such magazines wouldn't hold up very
well under the spray. True enough, my sex life had so far
been limited to some tremendously satisfying imaginary
orgies with the gay porn idols I spread on my bed nightly,
and two pieces of pussy that had been practically forced on
me. If I had a roommate, how was I going to get my rocks
off? Besides, it seemed to make much more sense for Mom and
Dad to share a study than it did for me to share my bedroom.
It took only a few seconds to realize there was no need to
even mention that option, since important attorneys don't
share studies.
So far, there had been nothing but stoney faced silence
in response to my protest. While that meant I hadn't won
the argument yet, I hadn't lost it either, and as long as
there was a chance, I was going for it.
"Either Patricia's in Karen's room or Karen's in hers
almost all the time anyway. It would be much less
inconvenient for them to share. Besides, girls don't seem
to value their privacy much anyway," I said, calming down,
attempting to bring logic into my renewed argument.
My mother spoke for the first time in several minutes,
her eyes narrowing to slits in that lawyerly look that tells
everybody she's thoroughly pissed that anyone would deign to
challenge the decision of the youngest -- and only female --
partner in Hollingsworth, Neblet, Adams and Crown, the most
"uppercrust" of the uppercrust lawfirms in Dallas. "The
very fact that we -- your parents -- have decided this is
the way things will be is quite enough reason, but you've
been reared to understand that young ladies are to be
treated with courtesy and deference. If a gentleman can
prevent inconvenience, it's his responsibility to do so,
regardless of the cost to himself personally," she almost
hissed.
"Well, like I said I need to study," I barked, shoving
the chair back and heading down the hall before I completely
lost my cool. Arguing with parents is one thing, but
arguing with parents who are both practicing attorneys is
slightly more difficult, especially when they're both
closed-minded bigots -- excuse me -- conservatives. I
didn't want the "As long as you put your feet under MY
table, you'll do what I say," speech, so the easiest thing
was just to make myself scarce.
I slammed the door in my room, lay down across the bed,
and began to fume to myself, since I didn't have the balls
to rant and rave to their faces. My mother was one of those
unpredictable bitches who was a "Womens Rights Activist"
when it was convenient and pushing for the "Proper Treatment
of a Lady" when that turned out to be the most advantageous.
Shit! After enjoying half an hour or so of thinking about
just what I was going to say when I finally WAS independent
of them, I picked up the anatomy text and began to study for
the next day's test. A&P can be a real ball crusher, but
somehow, it came relatively easy for me, meaning if I
crammed all night for two nights before the test, I'd pull
an A, while most of the rest of the class studied the same
amount or more to get a C. A few hours later I was feeling
pretty secure with my readiness for the test and decided to
hang it up for the night.
I walked into my bathroom and began undressing for my
shower, eying myself in the mirror like I did so many nights
before. I knew there hadn't been a surge of agents offering
modeling contracts, but as I undressed, I felt pleased with
my body.
---
Finally naked, I stood staring at the mirror,
trying to imagine what another gay guy might think. The
brownish/blond hair was common in color, but it had a
natural shine that seemed to accent my green eyes. My clean
shaven face was attractive if not a traffic-stopper, and
thanks to hundreds of dollars my folks had spent with my
uncle, the orthodontist, my teeth were even, perfectly
spaced, and as white as possible without looking unnatural.
I was certainly no Swarznegger, but my upper body had a nice
"V" shape. My chest was well defined, almost hairless, and
my stomach was flat and tight if not "rippled" or
"washboarded." There was a seductive little "Passion Trail"
of light brown hair starting just above my belly buton and
running down to my crotch. The legs were well-muscled,
hairier than the upper body but only slightly, and seemed to
"fit" with the rest of my 5' 10" build. On soft, my dick
looks extremely promising, a fat five inches when completely
shrunk, and the head of my cock lacks about an inch reaching
the bottom of my low-slung ball sack. Hard, it's slightly
less impressive, but just over 7" of fat, hard manmeat
should satisfy most guys. My balls aren't any bigger than
average, they just hang in a long, semi-hairless sack that
causes more than a few comfort problems when it's time to
wear clothes that are extremely tight. I turned and gazed
over my shoulder at my ass, and realized I'd been making
real progress there ever since I started at the gym. I'd
read in COLT magazine that doing lots of squats in your
workout routine would tone and define your buns, and based
on my own experience, those guys know what they're talking
about. My buns had become much more muscular, developing a
"rounded" appearance that was still very masculine, and they
seemed to stand apart from one another, making my virtually
hairless crack look deep and inviting. Tonight, I even
leaned over, looking up through my legs into the mirror to
get a look at my own tight, pink puckerhole. It looked as
good as those of most of the centerfold studs I dreamed
almost nightly of fucking, and while the body still needed
work, I realized I was certainly no slouch. Still, no
matter how good I might look, I was a virgin as far as the
sex I really wanted -- that with another man.
My thoughts and desires had my dick fully hard by now,
and as I stepped under the warm water of the shower, I made
sure to get it "good and clean." I was tempted to finish
myself off, the feel of my hand sliding back and forth on my
soap-slicked cock sending chills of pleasure up my spine as
I fingered my own asshole, but I decided to save it for
afterwards, since Dad had said Tim was arriving Friday and
that meant I only had tonight and two more nights for those
long, slow beatoff sessions I'd come to love. I got much
more business-like with my washing,and hurried out of the
shower, wrapping the towel around my still hard cock and
running a comb quickly through my wet hair. When I walked
back into my bedroom, I was just about to lock the door,
shuck the towel and give my cock what it really wanted when
there was a light "knock-knock, knock-knock" that I
recognized as my mother's.
"Is that you Mom?" I called, knowing that it was.
"Yes, Jason, could you join us in the den? We have a
little change in plans," came the reply.
Maybe they were going to come up with a solution that
didn't involve stealing my privacy! I opened the door a
crack and looked out, giving her my best "kiss ass" smile.
"I've just gotten out of the shower and I'm not yet decent.
I'll be with you in a few minutes, okay, Mom?"
"Well, by all means dress, but please hurry. Tim is
waiting to meet you."
"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. I thought you
said Tim was here."
"Apparently your father misunderstood the timing of his
arrival. He's in the den, now, and I see little point to
unload his car until he can bring his things to the bedroom.
Please hurry," and with that she'd turned and headed back
down the hall.
---
Shit! Friday was bad enough, but tonight! As horny as
I was, I badly needed a chance to beat my meat! And I
hadn't even had time to properly hide my magazines and fuck
books!
Quickly, I jumped into boxers and jeans, threw on a t-
shirt and put on my shoes. Now, there was only the matter
of properly concealing my private stock. Where was a good
place? Finally, I decided that I'd just have to figure that
out later, and leaned down and checked to make sure the
antique footlocker that sat at the foot of my bed, and was
home to 30 or so gay mags, was locked. I'd need to move
them tomorrow, since I might sometime need to open that
footlocker when Tim was around, but for now, that would do.
Still pissed and horny, I headed down the hall to the
den, surprised to walk into a room empty except for my mom.
"The girls have gone over to visit Amy (my cousin), and your
father and Tim will be right back," was all she said. It
was hard to tell if she was mildly pissed off, or just her
usual grumpy self.
I didn't have long to think about it, though, because
Dad walked into the room just then, followed by what
appeared to be, incredibly enough, a young, sexy version of
himself. "Jason, this is your brother Tim. Tim, this is
Jason, your brother and roommate for the next few days."
"Hi, Tim. Everybody but Mom and Dad call me Jase, but
I respond to either. We're glad to have you."
After the "Pleased to meet you" routine, we all sat
down and Mom, Dad, and Tim went through one of those
conversations between strangers that seem to use a universal
script. Every one of them seems to be basically the same,
and I was paying very little attention to what was being
said, since I was way too busy making sure I kept my hard-on
disguised. I was already horny before I met Tim, but
sitting across the room from me was a STUD. He was a hair
taller than my dad, so he was something over six feet, with
jet black hair and eyes so brown they seemed black. I could
see a patch of the same curly black hair peeping out the
collar of his t-shirt, and his body looked like it belonged
in one of those work-out ads. His smile was natural and
intoxicating, and his basket was clearly promising. Shit,
it was going to be bad enough to give up jacking off for a
few weeks, but to have to keep my hands off my meat while
this stud was around was going to be really TOUGH!
"Jason, are you listening?"
"Oh, sorry, Dad, I was thinking about A&P." It was
really only half a lie, since I was definitely thinking of
Tim's anatomy, and wondering just how his "physiology" would
feel when mixed with mine! "What was it that you said?"
"I said why don't you help Tim unload the things he
needs tonight, show him the room and let him get a shower
and get to bed early. He's bound to be exhausted after
driving 13 hours."
"Sure, come on Tim," I said as I headed to the garage
door. Since Tim's was the only vehicle that wasn't always
there, it was easy to head to the '84 Toyota pickup. One of
the barebones models, it clearly didn't even have an air
conditioner or a radio, and the old camper shell on the back
of it looked like it was new when I was in elementary
school. Too big for the compact truck, it had been welded
to an angle iron frame which was mounted to the truck.
"Guess my wheels don't really match the neighborhood,
but they get me where I'm going. Let me just grab my
shaving kit and some clean clothes for in the morning, and
I'll worry about the rest tomorrow. As you can see, I don't
have enough junk to cramp anybody. You learn to travel
light in the Navy," he said as he rummaged through an old
seabag in the back of the pickup.
I was paying little attention to what Tim was saying or
doing, because I was too busy studying that glorious ass,
framed in a pair of 501's that he seemed to have been melted
and poured into. The jeans had been washed so many times
they were white, with just random streaks of faded blue
remaining, and the Levi's label was no longer even legible,
the print gone to leave just a leather badge at the edge of
the belt-line. Damn! Now, that was an ass, and it was just
the kind of ass I wanted!
All too soon, Tim finished his search, straightened,
and turned around. "Lead the way, roomy," he said with a
good natured grin.
---
I showed him to our room, pulled out the trundle bed,
and told him "You'll sleep here. It looks weird, but Mom
likes everything just so, and would never agree to let me
have bunk beds when I was little. I know it sleeps good,
because lots of my friends have spent the night there.
That's the bathroom over there, nobody uses it but us, and
towels are in the cabinet above the commode. If you've
forgotten anything, there's razors, shampoo, deodorant and a
spare toothbrush in the drawers under the sinks. Any
questions?"
Now that I could finally see him standing, facing me, I
could see the clear outline of a promising cock down his
left leg. It was probably just my imagination, but it
seemed that I could even make out the head, which appeared
to be much wider than the shaft.
"Just one. Will you promise not to close this thing up
while I'm sleeping? I know it sounds stupid, but I worked
briefly in pathology right after Basic Training, and this
bed reminds me of the drawers we used to keep dead bodies
in. It gives me the creeps to think about it."
I laughed for a minute, then realized Tim was perfectly
serious. "Oh, sorry guy. I thought you were making a joke
at first. If it bugs you, you can take the regular bed and
I'll sleep in the trundle."
"Nah, I've made do with a lot worse. It'll take some
getting used to, but I'm sure it will be fine. Now I need
to hit the shower, because the road's got me more than a
little 'ripe,' and there's nothing worse than body odor."
"Sure, let me know if you need anything." I sat down
at my desk in the corner and pretended to study anatomy, but
I was really just digesting all the hot images that had been
flashing in front of me. There was no doubt about it, this
was going to be one of those nights when I'd need to "study
late" so Tim could get to sleep and I could slip in the
bathroom and whack off.
I was still thinking of how good it was going to feel
to beat off to visions of Tim dancing through my mind when
he came back in the room, wearing only one of the brown
oversized towel that Mom kept stocked in my bathroom. His
broad, defined hairy chest immediately sent my dick into new
fits of lust as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me
in silence for at least a minute, before he asked, "What are
you studying?"
"Anatomy and Physiology. We have a big test tomorrow
and I need to study some more. If you like, you can go
ahead and sack out. Go ahead and turn the overhead light
off. All I'll need is this desk lamp, and I don't believe
the glare from it will reach the bed, particularly not where
you'll be."
"Yeah, I think I'll do that in just a minute."
He continued to sit on the bed in silence, his eyes
boring a hole in my neck, or so it felt. After a moment, I
heard a sigh, he stood up, grabbed something and retreated
to the bathroom. When he came back out, he was wearing a
pair of jeans just as tight as the ones he'd changed out of,
and I just assumed he was going outside for something.
Instead, he turned out the overhead light and I heard him
climbing into the bed. Just like that. No "Good night," no
nothing.
It seemed strange as Hell to me that he was going to
sleep in jeans, particularly ones as tight as his, but if
that was what flipped his wiggler, it was none of my
business. I resumed my half-heartedly studying, focusing my
attention on the noises coming from Tim, waiting anxiously
to hear the slow rhythmic breating that would mean he was
asleep and I could get my rocks off. I'd almost decided he
was asleep when I heard him roll over. Seconds later, there
was more noise, and just a short while later it was clear
that Tim was tossing and turning.
"Hey, Tim, if that bed's bothering you, take the top.
I really don't mind, just don't tell Mom since I didn't
change the sheets. She'd have a stroke if she thought you
were sleeping on dirty sheets."
"Thanks, but it's not the bed. It's much more
comfortable than it looks, and I'm too tired and sleepy to
let the morgue bit bother me tonight."
Despite his assurance that the bed was fine, the
tossing and turning continued till I asked, "If this light
is bothering you, I can go in the den to study."
---
"No, Jase, I can't even tell you've got the light on."
Over the next few minutes it was clear the tossing and
turning had not stopped, which meant my hard, hot cock was
that much longer away from satisfaction.
"Tim, is there anything you need to make it easier to
get to sleep? You're obviously uncomfortable or something."
"No, it's just these jeans, and I'll get over it in a
minute."
"Why are you sleeping in jeans anyway, guy? I always
sleep in my drawers."
There was a brief silence, and then, "I have a little
problem, but a trip to K-mart will fix that tomorrow. I'll
be fine, really."
"What's the problem? And why's a guy who's been in the
service bashful about sleeping in his drawers?"
"I'm not going to sleep in my underwear because I don't
have any. I never have liked wearing 'em, but while I lived
in the barracks, I had to. When I finally got to move off
base, I trashed 'em all. I didn't realize I'd be sharing a
room with anybody when I got here, or I would have bought
some already."
My pecker got even harder as I imagined Tim's cock
flapping back and forth, swinging free under that brown
towel earlier. I'd just assumed there was underwear under
there, and I hadn't even tried to peek!
"Here, guy, we can fix that. You're a lot bigger than
me, so I don't think you can wear my underwear, but I've got
a pair of sweat shorts that are those one-size-fits-all
things, thanks to the drawstring. Let me get you those and
you should be a lot more comfortable."
Just a short while later I was handing him the shorts,
hoping that he would change right there in the room so I
might get a glance at his cock. No such luck. He stumbled
into the bathroom, reappearing moments later carrying his
jeans and headed toward the bed. The sweat shorts were so
fucking baggy I couldn't even get an impression of his cock!
Luckily, only minutes later, I heard the calm, even
breathing that told me Tim was asleep and I headed to the
bathroom quickly. It didn't take more than ten strokes
before I was creaming my nuts, blowing a huge load as I
thought of the hot guy in my bedroom, and the chance I hoped
I'd have to see him naked. The more I thought of his hot,
hard body, the hornier I got, till finally I worked my dick
into a new hard, and slowly, delicately enjoyed pulling my
pud another time. As I shot the second load, I was
pretending that Tim's mouth was wrapped around my cockhead,
and that the gentle, delicate touch on my cock was the feel
of his tongue. God, it was good to cum, I thought!
When I finally made my way back into the bedroom and
prepared to crawl in bed, I couldn't help staring at Tim's
handsome face, covered with thin black stubble, and still
displaying that perpetual smile. He seemed like a great
guy, but even if he was a total son of a bitch, he was sure
one sexy son of a bitch, I thought as I switched out the
light and rolled over to sleep.
The next morning, when my alarm went off, I immediately
looked toward Tim's bed. It was only 6:30 in the morning,
but he was already up and gone, and I realized with
disappointment I'd missed my chance to (perhaps) see his
body as he got dressed. I hurriedly got ready myself, not
even taking (much) time to admire and tease my morning
boner. When I got to the kitchen to grab some breakfast,
Tim was already sitting at the table, staring at the
classified ads, many of which he'd circled with a flare tip
pen. "I'm going to have some cereal, you want some?"
"Sure, as long as there's plenty of it," he replied,
circling away with his pen.
I grabbed two bowls and set the box of Sugar Corn Pops,
the milk, and spoons on the table. God, he looked just as
good this morning as he had last night! I checked out the
ads he was working on, and realized he was circling help
wanted listings. "You looking for a job?"
"Yeah, I need something part-time that will fit around
my school hours. You got any ideas?"
---
"Well, some of my friends say Federal Carriers, the big
freight line, is always hiring if you don't mind the hard
work, and I think the pay is pretty good."
"I saw their ad, and I've got it marked. You get used
to hard work when you spend four years in the Navy as a
flunky," he grinned.
I swallowed the last of my cereal, and said, "Well,
good luck. I've got to head out to school. You won't see
Mom, Dad, or the girls until they're right ready to walk out
the door. They never eat breakfast, and if nobody told you,
there's plenty of sandwich meat in the refrigerator, bread's
on the counter, and there are frozen dinners in the freezer.
Help yourself and I'll see you this afternoon."
I hurried out the door, jumped in my car, and broke
several good Texas laws as I sped toward school, anxious to
get there soon enough to claim a parking place on campus.
There were about twice as many commuters as parking places,
so if you didn't get there early you had to park somewhere
way away from campus and walk. It wasn't so much the walk
that I dreaded as it was leaving the car unattended. A
couple of my friends had had their windows smashed and their
stereos stolen earlier that year, and I didn't intend to
join their numbers.
The A&P test went okay, but the rest of my classes were
a blurr, as I focused my thoughts on various fantasies of
Tim's body throughout the morning. When my twelve o'clock
class was over and I was walking out the door, one of my
friends yelled, "Hey, Jase, let's grab a bite to eat."
"Sorry Blake, but I've got to make a command appearance
downtown," I lied. It really wasn't a TOTAL lie. It's just
that Blake thought I was talking about going to one of my
parent's offices, and I fully intended to head to Heritage
Marty's Books and Videos, a gay bookstore/peepshow I
frequented on days like today when I was so horny I couldn't
think straight.
"Maybe another time then and Good Luck!" he answered,
disappearing into the crowd of students headed to eat. As I
climbed into my car, I was already wandering if I'd have the
balls to let one of those horny accountants that hung out at
Heritage this time of day suck my cock. Lots had offered in
the past, but their looks always made it easy to say no.
But I really didn't think I'd ever been as horny as I was
today, and I promised myself that if somebody offered to
suck my dick today, I was going to take him up on his offer.
It took almost half an hour to get downtown, but only
seconds to buy ten bucks worth of tokens for the movie
machines. The movies were pure shit, worn out long before
they made it to Heritage, but if nothing else I could watch
hot, hard dicks plunging in and out of hungry mouths and
assholes as I jacked off. I headed into the first empty
booth i could find and began feeding the quarter-sized
tokens into the machine. The machine came up in the middle
of a movie showing a poor imitation of Jeff Stryker fucking
an ass that was attached to a face I couldn't see. My cock
started getting hard, and I was already rubbing myself
through my jeans when I heard somebody entering the booth
next door.
I waited to see if there would be any action at the big
"glory hole" cut in the wall, but when neither a cock or a
hand appeared, I figured I just as well get down to business
for myself, and unbuttoned my fly as I returned to staring
at the fucking frenzy on the fuzzy screen in front of me.
As I reached in my boxers and began to knead my balls and
pull on my stiff cock, the actor on the screen reached
around the guy whose ass he was pounding so hard and began
to jack him off. In my mind, that ass was mine, that cock
was Tim's, and I imagined how good it would feel to have
that dick sliding in and out of my hot asshole while his
hand made love to my stiff manhood.
I was so wrapped up in my own fantasies, I almost
didn't notice the dick that stuck through the glory hole.
It looked about 6 1/2" long, and it had the appearance of a
lolipop, the skinny hard shaft flaring into a much, much
wider, rounded head. It looked weird and sexy at the same
time, but it was definitely a hard, hot cock, mine if I
wanted it, and I both needed and wanted one. I flipped the
lock on the booth door, got down on my knees and began to
play with the stranger's dick as I continued to jack my own.
I wasn't particularly shocked that I'd finally given into
the "glory play," since I'd been thinking about it for
months now, and what was the harm? I'd never meet the guy,
he'd never meet me, and we'd both get our rocks off dreaming
about the partner we really wanted.
---
After just a few strokes the guy next door started
really getting into hit, humping his hips back and forth to
force his dick to fuck my fist a little faster, a littler
harder, than I was doing it. My own fist began to move up
and down my own shaft faster and faster. In my mind it was
my mouth that was on that hot lolipop cock, not my hand, and
the dick was not some stranger's but Tim's. As we got
closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, my partner began
to groan, muttering a barely discernible "Good... oh so
good," as I did my best to beat his cock harder and better
than anybody had ever pulled his pud. I'd almost decided
the guy was going to outlast me, when I felt the fuckstick
in my hand jump, twitch and began to spew hot, thick
manjuice everywhere. I was near my own orgasm, but the
sight and feel of another man coming as the result of my
efforts seemed too hot to handle half-heartedly, and I began
to work that tool and those balls with both hands, trying
hard to squeeze the last few drops of cum from my anonymous
lover's manhood. Finally, it was clear I'd milked him dry,
and I dropped his dick, returning to my own cock, anxious to
relieve the pressure of the huge wad that had been building
up in my own balls.
The dick I'd taken such good care of disappeared
through the hole, just as I'd expected. What I didn't
expect, though, was the mouth that was soon pressed in the
same place, open wide, tongue flicking in a clear
invitation. He was probably fat, ugly and bald, but all my
cock could see was another man's hot wet mouth waiting for
me, so it didn't take long for me to scoot forward, slipe my
thick dick head between those waiting lips and begin to
furiously fuck that mouth.
Jesus, I'd always dreamed a blow job would be good, but
I had no idea just how good it was really going to be! The
guy on the other side of the wall was a real pro, running
his tongue up and down the head of my dick, all under the
ridge of the crown, and back and forth in the piss slit.
God, could he suck a cock!
I wanted that blow job to last forever, but it was
ending all too soon. I felt my dick swell in that final
way, signalling my own need to shoot just as the guy on the
other side pulled his mouth away, replacing it with a spit-
slicked hand that soon had me pumping huge wads of thick
manjuice all over it. I'd cum hard before, but never
anything like that, and for several seconds after the guy's
hand got me off, draining the last few drops of my jizz onto
the concrete floor, then disappeared back into his own
booth, I couldn't have moved if someone had shouted "Fire!"
Eventually, though, I stood, wiped away what cum I could,
and tucked everything back in my jeans. Breathing a deep
sigh, I walked out into the hall, intending to head home.
I'd just assumed the guy in the booth next door was
already gone, but when I heard the door opening, I couldn't
resist the temptation to look. I wondered just how fat,
just how ugly, just how bald he might be, so I stopped and
stared to see who had just sucked my dick so expertly.
When he stepped into the dimly hit hall, we both froze,
our eyes locked into a mutual gaze, neither of us saying a
word for what seemed like hours, but was probably no more
than 30 seconds. "Hi, Jase, you have as good a time as I
did?" was Tim's only comment as he moved to my right and
walked past me down the hall, my eyes glued to that glorious
butt I still hadn't seen.
---